My Hunger Games
by PansyParkinsonIsMisunderstood
Summary: Well, basically it's the fifteenth Hunger Games featuring a character based on me. Just some fun. Violence, a whole lot of violence.


**Okay, Hunger Games, main protagonist c'est moi! Tell me if she's a sue, but she won't be more so that Katniss and she won't interrupt canon. Okay, onward!**

I wake up in my lovely warm bed, its reaping day, which means I have about six hours before the whole district is required to do almost nothing of value for three weeks, better get in some reading time before peace keepers start trawling the place with whips and Tasers.  
I check if my family are awake, my brother is, he's playing with the electronic entertainment system in the family room, my sister is sound asleep in her sleeping area, as are my parents in their own such places.  
I toss on a sweater and combat trousers, the last time for three weeks I won't have to dress stuffily formal. I enter the kitchen and open the food cooling unit. As normal, nothing decent that doesn't require preparation. I dig around and eventually find some olives; I put them into my personal carrying unit, along with a copy of an ancient book called Gone, technically illegal and stolen from the hall of artefacts.  
I leave my housing unit, wary of peace keepers, even though they'll almost definitely be setting up the stage for the reaping, and make my way to green space nine. Green space nine is one of ten recreation areas in my district, it contains hollow, fake parodies of pine trees, and is situated right next to the bit of border backing on to a real forest, I'm fairly sure it's a form of psychological torture.  
I climb my favourite tree and slide into an alcove, meant to replicate the home of a long extinct species called an 'owl', and start reading. I hear footsteps below and poke my head out, I see Sam, my best friend, and invite him up.

"Hey, Snare." He greets me after joining me. He calls me this because it's what my name means in some long dead language, and because it's the only thing I could do when I first joined the academy, last year.

"Don't call me that." I instruct him.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll push you down." Is my empty threat, made in return "Who are the volunteers, this year?" I ask.

"Err, Eve and Cain, I think." He refers to two eighteen year olds I've seen around occasionally.

"I heard she was sick." I muse "Ah well, feel like doing something fun?"

"What?" He asks, making sure it's not something stupid.

"Get some more books while the record keepers are busy with the reaping." I reply. He rolls his eyes.

"I don't see why you can't just go to the Bubble." He states, referring to our black market, every district has one, that's no secret, though ours is more luxury that essentials, in contrast to district 12 and 11.

"I don't have anything to trade." I explain.

"What about all those necklaces you made?"

"They take ages." I defend, "coming?" He rolls his eyes but reluctantly complies. It's easy, we wonder in and just slip a couple of books into our personal carrying units. We split up to go back to our respective housing units, to change into our reaping outfits.

I get back to mine to see my mother attempting to force my sister to get dressed. I put on an old black skirt and green silk blouse, I could wear something nicer, but I refuse. I run downstairs, having left my personal carrying unit in my room, slip on black shoes and go to DNA register for the reaping draw. It's my second year and I'm the only one in my family in the draw.

Mayor Knott, Pearl, who is our district mentor and Cleopatra Bliss, our ambassador/escort sit on the stage. We sit by as the first three districts have their tributes picked. For district one, it's a blonde girl called Peony and a boy called Oak, apparently plant names are in vogue over there. District two give a girl called Venus and a stocky boy called Saturn, planets are the names to have over there, it seems. From the technology district, we are presented with Sparky and Rivet, district four are famous for never having naming fads, and sticking to patriotism.

Now for our drawings. There is a short speech from the mayor, before Cleopatra starts.

"Welcome, to the fifteenth annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour." She mouths along to the video reminder of the dark days, before continuing, "Now, for the male tribute of district four, to represent you all in the games, is," And she gracefully leans down to pick out a small, powder blue envelope, "Barracuda Jones!" There's a universal snigger. He's a lanky boy with acne, who's parents neglected naming fashions, thusly damning him to a life of being called 'fish boy'.

He doesn't even bother standing up, before our volunteer, well, volunteers. Cain Marsons is the epitome of a good tribute in the eyes of our district. He's six foot two, just less than three hundred pounds, all muscle, blonde and has a fashionable, biblical name. Everyone claps, and one girl swoons, as her struts up to the stage. He sits down on a chair next to the mayor.

"Now for the girls!" Cleopatra is jubilant. She leans down into an almost identical bowl, only this one contains baby pink envelopes, and pulls out an envelope. She breaks the seal with her false nail. "Rebecca Battersby!" She declares. Wait, that's me. Ah well, Eve will volunteer. But where is she? A murmur goes through the crown on just that topic. My suspicions are confirmed that she's ill, and I reluctantly creep up to the stage.


End file.
